A Kid in a Candy Store
by Uncle Charlie
Summary: Illya goes into a candy store... now there's trouble waiting to happen. No warnings, just silly fun.


"Oh come on, I have serious work to do," Napoleon complained, but he knew it was for naught. It didn't matter what fate awaited him, once Illya set his targets on something, there was no getting around it. "This can't be good for you."

"Who cares about it being good for me? It has to be better than being shot or tortured." Illya had a killer grip on Napoleon's elbow and it wasn't loosening. "Haven't you even heard the old saying about all work and no play?"

"I don't think it necessarily mean to be applied to this."

"Come on!"

It was like he had a choice or even a snowball's chance in hell of stopping his partner. Napoleon allowed Illya to drag him into the store.

Once inside, Illya released Napoleon and took a step away, his eyes closed in pure splendor. Even Napoleon had to agree. You think that you are grown-up, smart and independent, but once you get into a candy store - _voila_, you're five years old again. The smells brought back so many memories for him.

He could remember wandering into Old Man Dente's store and plunking his nickel down. Napoleon was barely able to reach the counter, but there was a stepstool to help. Then came the challenge. There was Turkish taffy in just about any flavor you could want. Napoleon avoided the banana, though. It just tasted weird to him. There was chocolate, strawberry, cherry, grape, and regular flavored licorice, Dots, bubble gum cigars – those were especially good because you could use the paper ring off the packing afterwards for a real ring for your best girl. Napoleon always gave his to his mom - Choward's lemon mints, Junior Mints, and candy cigarettes. However, the best of all were the M & M's. Napoleon rarely bought them because you could only get one bag for a nickel and it was all about quantity for him.

Napoleon looked over at Illya. The Russian hadn't moved. He was still standing there, eyes closed and with a smile on his face.

"What's wrong, partner? Don't know where to start?"

"Napoleon, I've never begun. We did not have candy when I was growing up. Sweets, yes, but nothing like this."

Napoleon grinned happily. "Then, my friend, you are in luck. I happen to have a black belt in candy buying."

Napoleon let his head fall back onto Illya's sofa. The stereo had stopped playing seemingly hours early. Empty bottles littered a second hand coffee table and Napoleon winced as a bottle tipped and clattered to the floor. Neither man moved to retrieve it. "Oh, Illya, I think we did a very stupid thing."

"I was wrong. It is better to be shot or torture. I think I'm going to throw up." Illya was leaning forward, his arms on his knees. There was a faint greenish tinge about his face. "What possessed us?"

"Us? No one said you had to eat it all tonight and it wasn't my idea to drink beer with it." Napoleon pushed a paper bag with his toe. "Oh, sorry, not all gone. There's still something in there. You would have been a legend at Halloween."

"I blame you for this." Illya burped and glared at Napoleon. Well, it wasn't much of a glare. Neither of them had the energy for that.

"Me? What did I do?"

"You knew better. You should have stopped me."

"Do you want to see the bruise from where I tried to stop you?" Napoleon flexed his arm. "My elbow is going to ache for a week."

"I'm going to bed. You coming? You are hardly in shape to drive."

"Yeah, if you can keep your hands to yourself."

"I will endeavor to control my baser instincts. I shall, instead, concentrate upon not vomiting."

"Thanks. I'd appreciate that."

Napoleon managed to get to his feet and a moment later Illya followed. Staggering and weaving, they managed to make their way through Illya's small apartment and to the bedroom – a massive feat considering their condition.

Napoleon stopped and glared at the heap of clothes. "You do have a closet, you know."

"I use that for storage. Whatever you say, the best wardrobe in a room is a chair. Everything is right there and I don't have to waste time finding things."

"Well, that does answer some questions."

"Which are?"

"Why you always arrive to work rumpled."

"If I felt better, I'd take exception at that remark."

"Tomorrow." Napoleon managed to strip and carefully folded his clothes before dropping them on the floor. Without standing upon ceremony, he crawled into the bed and sprawled out, eyes closed, waiting for the room to stop spinning. Things quieted down and he cautiously opened one eye to see Illya standing above him.

"Do you mind?"

"It is your bed, after all." Napoleon begrudgingly shifted over and Illya climbed in, turning off the light.

"Yes, it is."

Napoleon took a deep breath and held it, then slowly exhaled.

"Napoleon?"

"Yes?"

"If anyone asks what we did tonight…"

"I'll lie and tell them we spent the night in a wild orgy with two imaginative redheads, a beguiling brunette, and a polite blonde from Buffalo."

"Good night, Napoleon… and thank you."

"Hey, you know what they say…"

"No, what?"

"Candy doesn't make the world go round, but it makes the trip a lot sweeter."

"Say goodnight, Napoleon."

"Good night, Napoleon." He laughed as a pillow hit him and, in spite of his churning stomach Napoleon Solo was content.


End file.
